At first the speaker is simply annoyed: a bird keeps singing near the house all day, and he has even clapped his hands at the door to drive it off. The frustration feels real and almost funny in its pettiness. But the speaker quickly turns inward. Instead of staying angry, he admits that the fault was partly his own—the bird isn’t wrong for singing its own tune. The last two lines broaden that thought into a gentle moral: there is something wrong in wanting to silence any song. The mood moves from peevish irritation to rueful self-awareness, leaving a calm recognition that the natural world shouldn’t have to accommodate human moods.
A Minor Bird — Summary
I have wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house all day;
Have clapped my hands at him from the door When it seemed as if I could bear no more.
The fault must partly have been in me. The bird was not to blame for his key.
And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.